6th Avenue Nightmare
by procol harum
Summary: Danny investigates when a man and a prostitute are found murdered in a hotel room. Also has Danny/Flack slash as well...


!-- page { size: 21.59cm 27.94cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --So I went through this little fic, my first CSI:NY one, called _6th Avenue Nightmare_. I have added (a lot more) to it, now and decided to repost, because on top of adding to and editing what had been written, I have continued the story as well. Thought it couldn't hurt to add more to it :D

So it ended at this bit -- _"Yeah, yeah," Danny muttered. "Just get outta here so I can finish this case, or else I'll never make it to your place."_ -- the last time, and I've now added quite a bit, as well as editing that part as well... so, enjoy...?

And before it had been only 756 words before and is now _3662_ :O I feel so awesome at writing something that long. Lately it's been short drabbles and one-shots...

**Fandom: CSI: NY  
Title:** 6th Avenue Nightmare  
**Characters/Pairng**: Danny Messer, Don Flack, Danny/Flack – other characters as well, now... but mainly Danny/Flack  
**Rating:** PG for content  
**Warnings:** slash, mentions suicide, usual stuff you _see_ on CSI:NY, so I don't think this is worse than watching it...  
**A/N: ****... well, the beginning had initially been started while** listening to _Father's Son_ by **3 Doors Down. **And then, the bit with Danny and Flack was me attempting a first fic with them, thrown in mainly for that cause. I actually liked this one a lot, which is why I've gone back and added more. Hopefully the beginning bit, with the man and the murder/suicide thing makes more sense now (=

--

I didn't mean to hurt her; it had just happened. Somehow. But really, I never _meant_ to hurt her. It was just some kinda impulse, really. A little bit of pleasure that was turned into pain. I had wanted her to hurt, just a little bit..

_I had _wanted_ to hurt her_...

It really was an accident, though... So why -- if I wanted to do it, meant to do it -- do I feel so guilty? She had offered herself up to me – for fifty bucks. And I had wanted every cent to be paid for, in pleasure, maybe pain. But not like that. Not in blood. In screams. Her pain, and I doubt she felt any damn pleasure. Maybe it'd be better if I just didn't exist anymore. My daughter could wind up like that. Oh God, my daughter. She was at home, in bed, while I was out fucking some random prostitute I'd picked up at the corner of 6th Avenue and Queens Street. But I never meant to. So _why do I feel so _**guilty**? I dunno, not exactly. Maybe this gun can help in easing the guilt... Save every other woman I may wanna have fun with– and it wouldn't really be fun, would it? Just that damned pain that had started as pleasure. Fucking pleasure for me, maybe. But not her; not _anybody_. Might save my daughter. That'd be good, real good. I don't want this to happen to her, after all. She'll be better off, _safer_, with me gone. I think I'll be better off with me gone.

My dad would be damned glad if I were gone...

Yeah, goodbye world... and goodbye _Dad_, because I will never be your son, not ever again.

--

Danny looked down at the body of the thirty-five year old, quickly taking in everything he could. Gunshot wound to the left temple – self-inflicted, it seemed. A gun was clutched tight in his left hand. Danny couldn't see any traces of gunshot residue, but he thought he might find some. No, not thought, _knew_, because it seemed so much like a suicide. But instinct never could determine anything – it was the evidence that did. And he hadn't gathered enough yet to determine the guy's COD.

Flack moved up behind Danny, looking down at the body curiously. "Suicide?" he questioned, voicing the CSI's thoughts easily. Messer nodded, not quite sure, but still giving a yes quickly because it did seem so much like a suicide... even if he had no evidence to help back up his conclusion. Mac wouldn't think twice about considering Danny's conclusion, though, without more determinable evidence to help in solidifying the theory of suicide.

"I dunno," Danny spoke up slowly. "Seems like it, but Mac always said that you can't assume nothin' without enough evidence to support it." He sighed, turning to face the detective behind him. "Seems like it, though. Just the way he is... and the gun, with the shot to the head..." He began rubbing at his temple, forgetting about the glove, now stained with blood, that he wore. Flack laughed and reached a hand out to pull at Danny's arm before too much of the blood was smeared on his forehead. The CSI smiled gratefully, but made no attempt to wipe away the sticky wetness drying slowly on his forehead. He'd kind of forgotten it was there.

"I think you're right," Flack admitted after a minute's silence. "Girl back there is dead. I'm pretty sure he killed her. But beforehand, I dunno. Looks like somethin' sexual went down but I don't think it was a rape, not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Danny questioned irritably. Just what he needed: a possible rape to go with his possible suicide. He sighed again, this time remembering the glove and pulling it off before massaging his temple. Some of the blood had not yet transferred to his hand and he scrubbed at his forehead roughly to try and clear away the rest of the blood. "I'm gettin' a headache."

"She's a prostitute, I think," Flack muttered, watching Messer's attempts at wiping away the blood with an amused grin. Most of it was gone – this surprised the detective, considering there were only small flecks on Danny's hand and fingers – although his forehead was now red from the harsh rubbing. No wonder he was gettin' a headache... "He paid her," Don added when Danny had scrubbed away most of the blood -- he'd given up, not knowing his attempts were proving worthwhile -- and looked up at him curiously. "I think it just got outta control. He killed her, then shot himself in guilt." There was Flack's reasoning, and it matched up with Danny's thoughts almost as perfectly as piece in a jigsaw puzzle. The cop sighed, though, grinning. "But you're right, not enough evidence. Just seems that way."

"Yeah..." Danny did agree, but again his thoughts trailed to Mac and his theory on evidence being the biggest importance in a case. It could determine anything: cause of death, murder weapon, suspects... the list went on; Danny sighed. He knew for sure that Mac wouldn't take any of their thoughts into consideration until there was enough evidence to support the theory. And Danny had only just started processing the first body. Sometimes he really hated being the first one on scene, the first to get to doing the work. Because this was too confusing and his headache was really starting to become noticeable now.

"Hey, c'mon," Flack whispered, looking to ensure Hawkes, who was currently examining the girl for her cause of death, and the only officer at the scene – now guarding the entrance to the room – were not in hearing distance. "I think this case'll be open and shut. Accidental murder/suicide. Just get it done, then you come by my place after. We can order pizza, watch some tv?"

"And if it ain't open and shut?"

"I can wait Danny. But when you're done this case, come on over, huh? We haven't hung out in awhile."

"I've been busy, Don," Danny argued, even though it had been a month since either had hung out outside of work. And they were kinda dating, so it was a bit odd. Danny did miss hanging out, though. Quite a lot, actually. He had just been really busy with work and afterwards he had been too exhausted for any kind of social life.

"I know. But Mac thinks you're workin' too hard. So take a break when you got this case over with and come over, alright? But call first – I might not be done work when you are."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny muttered. "Just get outta here so I can finish this case, or else I'll never make it to your place."

Hawkes had examined the man on scene after determining the girl's cause of death was a gunshot wound to the temple. Close-range, but not so close that her entire face had been unrecognizable; only half of the facial structure and skull were intact, though. Danny had found a thin film of gunshot residue mixed in with the girl's auburn hair and caked blood and pieces of skin tissue and bone, all torn apart like a bomb had been set off inside her head. It wasn't a pretty sight, but hardly any of the cases Danny worked ever were. And he had seen worse before, much worse. The same was the case for the man; gun shot to the temple. He had less of his face and skull intact, though. Probably had been able to hold the gun closer to his own head than to the girl's. There was gunshot residue mixed in with his graying blonde hair, already starting to thin – and Danny couldn't help but to think '_too young'_. Lots of blood and skin tissue and bone there as well. The woman had been shot on the left side of the head; the man was shot on the right side. He had the gun held in his right hand. Hawkes had told Danny that it seemed like a murder/suicide to him as well. Man shot the girl, then himself. Open and shut. All they had to figure out was why, and who exactly these people were. Even Mac had been quick to reason that that probably was the case when he arrived on scene. Except all the evidence needed to be checked over, **just in case**. Danny was still dead set on murder/suicide; it seemed too much like it for it to have even been a set-up, a cover-up for a murder gone wrong – _and_, Danny thought, _isn't that what the man killed himself for? To not have to face the consequences of killing the girl_...

Mac told Danny to gather what evidence he could and take it, any blood samples, and whatever else he could find back to the lab. "Then go home," he had ordered. He didn't say anything else, and for once Danny wasn't ready to argue. He was tired and his headache was now as severe as a migraine, pounding away in his skull like a hammer banging a nail into the wall.

One quick call after dropping off the evidence bags at the lab and Danny was talking to Flack once again. "Hey," he mumbled wearily, rubbing at tired eyes. His glasses had been removed just seconds before making the call. His headache was continuing to grow worse. "You done work?"

"Yeah; I'm home now, actually. Just got off an hour ago. You?"

"I'm off now. Mac sent me home."

"Yeah..." Danny was pretty certain that Don was grinning at this latest statement. "That's good. You want me to order a pizza? You could come over here..."

"I gotta huge headache, man. I just wanna take a couple aspirin and go to sleep."

"You blowin' me off Messer?" Flack joked but Danny could still make out the concern in his tone. "You okay to drive?" he added when Danny gave no response.

"Yeah, 'course I am." Danny grinned even though Flack couldn't see it. "Just hurts a little. Not goin' blind or anything."

"That's good."

"Yeah... real good. " Danny slipped his glasses back on slowly, trying not to jab an eye. He might actually wind up partially blind if he wasn't careful enough. "I'll head over to your place, then. You got aspirin, right?"

"Yeah... you don't gotta come if you don't wanna," Flack responded, dismay evident in his voice. Messer laughed. "Don't worry about, Don; just make sure ya got some aspirin and beer waitin' for me. And hope that that pizza arrives soon, too. I'm starved."

"Nothin' like a couple 'a dead bodies to work up your appetite, huh?"

Danny laughed and hung up after a short and mumbled, "See ya soon."

When Danny finally pulled his car into the parking lot behind Flack's twelve-story apartment building he thought his head was going to explode. It hurt to even blink, and driving here had taken him ten minutes longer than it should have because he'd had to drive slower than usual just to prevent the pain from ruining his vision anymore. He didn't have 'die in car crash' on that day's To-Do list and he was fine not adding it to the list. He didn't exactly have 'murder/suicide' or 'Flack's after work' on there, either, but he'd take those over a car crash any day. And the second was definitely the more appealing of his two options; too bad he couldn't have made the first never happen.

Flack opened the door halfway through the second knock. He grinned at Danny but frowned immediately upon closer inspection. Danny had looked tired, exhausted even, at the crime scene, but he had also looked alive. Now he was slightly slouched over, glasses gone – and Flack hoped he had removed them _after_ driving over here – his skin an unhealthy shade of pale pink, almost white. He still was able to flash Don a stupid grin, though, before muttering, "Aren't ya gonna lemme in?"

Flack frowned at the slight strain in Danny's voice but stepped aside, pushing the door open wider. Danny stepped inside quickly and Flack shut the door behind him. "You look like shit, man," Flack stated without emotion and Danny laughed. "Yeah? Think I feel about that way, too."

"I got some aspirin in the kitchen. What took you so long?"

"Drove slow. Head hurt too much I thought I mighta crashed."

"That bad?" Don felt slightly guilty about Danny coming over when he was apparently in no shape to have done so. But really, if Danny hadn't of driven here he would have been driving home. Flack was glad Danny had chosen to come his place.

Danny had already made his way into the kitchen. He found the bottle of aspirin on the counter and twisted the cap off, dumping four pills into his hand. Two normally did it, but he thought that this one would need a little bit more help kill it. He swallowed the pills dry then turned to find Flack watching him. "You got any beer?"

Don cast Danny a worried glance. "Shouldn't ya wait 'til after that stuff's gone from your system?"

"It's a couple aspirin," Danny argued. "I've had a rough... month or so. Can't I have one beer?" His tone was pleading now and Don smiled. Well, if Danny wanted his beer that bad...

"In the fridge. You shoulda known that, though."

"Didn't wanna get caught pilferin' your goods."

"Pilfering?"

"Ya know, rawr! Like the pirates? Or no, that's not right..." Danny laughed. "Maybe I do need to sleep more... damn tired right now. "

`"You sure you haven't _pilfered_ any of my beers yet?" Flack laughed and moved towards his fridge. He opened the door and leaned down to grab two bottles of the Budweiser – not the greatest, he thought, but it had been cheap when he'd bought it. Danny had been standing near the sink, rubbing once more at his eyes, burning with tired agony, but had stopped when Flack had bent over. A sliver of skin was revealed where his shirt rode up, the loose track pants hanging low on his hips. Danny found all thoughts wiped away as he stared, licking dry lips. He hadn't actually seen Flack in anything other than those suits in just over a month now.

"Here," Don spoke up as he stood and Danny blinked and now he saw blue fabric, slightly tight as it twisted on Don's lean frame as he turned. The door of the fridge was shut quickly. A beer was passed off to the CSI, who grasped the bottle tight in his hand, as if afraid to let go. Flack was grinning, trying to loosen the shirt and fit it back in place. The blue fabric once again lifted up and this time Danny caught a glimpse of the pale pink of Don's stomach. He blushed and quickly opened his beer, draining half in two gulps.

"I know, great view isn't it?" Flack joked, laughing. Danny hit his arm. "Shut up..."

"I don't blame ya. Those suits really do nothin' for me. I mean, there's no way any skin could show in those. Well, except for my hands and face, right?"

"Yeah, guess so." Danny grinned, taking another swig of his beer. It was almost gone now. He didn't feel as sick anymore, and his headache had started to fade away. Another hour and he figured it would be gone for good.

"Pizza shoulda been here already," Don muttered and Danny laughed. "Maybe he got lost?"

"Yeah right; they deliver here a lot. And we don't even get it free if the guy's late..."

An hour later and Danny's headache had faded away into nothingness. He was sitting on the couch, head resting on Flack's shoulder. Some old black and white movie was playing on the television set. Twenty-two inch, and Don really did love every inch. It wasn't too big that you had to sit far back just to see the entire screen. And he didn't think that any tv could be too small, unless you really couldn't see anything. In that case, then, he would at least appreciate the sound. He mostly only used it for watching the occasional basketball or football game.

The pizza guy had come forty minutes before, an embarrassed expression playing across his features as visibly as the movie on Flack's screen. He grinned sheepishly as he held out the cardboard box. Danny had mumbled something in the living room behind him as Don caught the familiar scent of tomato, cheese, and pepperoni. Messer didn't like anything else on his pizza; if Flack were alone he would have added ham and sausage. He was human, which he had translated into 'carnivore at heart'. He never could understand why a person could choose a lifestyle of vegetarianism.

"Sorry about the delay," the guy, probably in his early twenties, spoke up quickly. His voice was high, almost a squeak, and Don smirked. He was at least six feet ad looked to have a good build and weight that both surpassed Don's own by ten pounds, at least. His crinkled red and white uniform shirt seemed a size too small, hugging the bulge of his muscles so close that Flack was amazed that the shirt hadn't torn open. A pair of faded blue jeans hung loosely on his hips.

"Yeah?"

"Your order came in and there was like, ten before it. Only one of the ovens worked, so it had to wait for your pizza to get done."

Flack wasn't even sure that half of that sentence made sense, but he had understood at least why their had been a delay. Sort of. He just shrugged and muttered, "Sure; can't expect everythin' to work out, huh?"

The man smiled, in relief, most likely, glad that Don hadn't become aggressive. He passed the pizza into the detective's waiting hands. "Boss says you can have it free, since you had to wait awhile... it's not cold, though. Just came outta the oven."

Flack took the pizza, smiled, and said thanks. Shut the door as the delivery guy turned and headed back towards the elevator. Looks like he was wrong about getting the pizza for free. He turned and headed back towards the couch, to where Danny sat, eyes slowly drooping closed. He nudged the CSI with his foot as he placed the cardboard box on the table and fell back into the couch. Danny mumbled something incoherent and positioned his head so that it now rested on Don's shoulder. Flack sighed but let it stay. He would just have to wait a little bit longer before getting his pizza.

The next day at work Danny was told that the case at Belvedere Hotel had been a murder/suicide, and that the man had been identified as Henry Rawlings. Father of fifteen year old Amanda Rawlings. His ex-wife, Julie Green, was surprised but did not seem upset about his death. The only information they could get out of her about Henry was that he had been a workaholic, too engrossed in his job to worry about his family at home. Julie and Henry had divorced a year before, after being married for seventeen years. No real reason as to why he had killed the girl and then himself ever came up. A record on him, had, though, and all that gave the CSIs was that his father would became a bit too physical with his wife and son after drinking too much. Henry Rawlings sr., had died in a car crash – his own fault, driving while drunk – when his son was seventeen. The mother had died five years previously. Found raped and murdered in her own home, but nobody was ever arrested for that. Danny had thoughts on that, but the case had been closed for awhile now and it really didn't matter much anymore. But he at least had some reasoning behind why Henry Rawlings might have killed himself. He never gave voice to his thoughts, though. He doubted Mac would want to hear it.

The girl was still a Jane Doe, and would most likely remain that way. After hearing the news, Danny had smiled knowingly at Mac and the elder CSI had replied with a stern stare and a quick, "Can't always expect your first guess to be right, Danny. Remember the evidence." Danny had already been expecting that kind of response from Mac, anyways. A good job would have been nice, as well, but he was right; the evidence was important and hardly any case was as easy to solve as this one without it.

He had been given another folder and then Flack was there, once again in a suit and Danny couldn't help but smile at this. His tie was more on the normal side, today though, just a plain dark blue one that fit well with the white dress shirt and black suit jacket and pants. Danny had picked it out. On the way to the lab they had had to stop in at Danny's apartment so he could change into a pair of dark jeans and a white wife beater underneath a gray Henley. It was too warm for a jacket.

"Robbery gone bad?" Danny asked after glancing at the file: a man shot behind the counter of Murry's Convenience. The register had been open and empty.

"Won't know without the evidence, but most likely. Most like this are."

Danny grinned at Mac's retreating back as he headed down the hallway to find Stella than turned to Flack. "So whaddya think? Open and shut again?"

"Won't know without the evidence," Flack replied quickly, mimicking Mac's choice of words and placing an arm around Danny's shoulders. "But if it is and you get off on time, wanna come over again?"


End file.
